Unity
by Connorgetaways
Summary: A retelling of Assassin's Creed: Unity with missing scenes that include the Assassins from the E3 trailer that we have been cruelly deprived of. Spoilers for AC Unity in later chapters. Eventual AxeGuy/Arno.
1. Rebirth

_**A/N**_

_I was a little bummed out that the guys from the E3 trailer are actually just Arno. I was also bummed out that Elise was a romantic interest, I kind of wanted her to play the part of a sister to Arno, which would have been an interesting change. Although I do like the game so far, i think it would have been more interesting with the baguette boyband so here I am._

_Warning: This will eventually be Axe Guy/Arno. You should blame the fan art that was going around after E3 because i have shipped this ever since._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Arno Dorian or Assassin's Creed._**

_Special thanks to tumblr user shaycormec for helping me pick out the names for thebaguette boyband and encouraging me to write this._

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><p><strong>"Rebirth"<strong> they had called it.

Arno found it very fitting; It had indubitably _felt_ like he had died.

He had killed himself; found himself in a crowd of faceless, nameless strangers and thrust a blade through his own back. And was it not strange that he felt nothing when he did? He had looked upon his own face, his own eyes vacant with death, and only felt relief.

Relief and clarity.

His journey to rebirth had given him an understanding of himself, his abilities and his legacy. He could now see and hear things that people could only dream of, could tell friend from foe with only a glance. He was always good at leaping from roof top to roof top but he always had to think about it. Now that he knew himself, knew what he was capable of, he could leap farther, higher. He knew now how to trust himself, how to take a leap of faith and know that he would come out alive.

It was a great difference from what he used to be. His old self had been naïve, selfish and childish; oblivious to the deceptions around him. That naïveté had cost him the only family he had. The brotherhood had given him a second chance with a clean slate and a purpose, something he never had before-

"Welcome back, Arno!"

The voice startled Arno out of his dark thoughts. He looked up, only now realizing that his feet had taken him from the _Café Théâtre_ into the hideout, and was greeted by the Brotherhood's smiling shopkeeper.

Arno's lips curled up in a quiet smile, so different from the boisterous grins of his youth, and replied, "Hello, Jean. How are things?"

"Very good, actually. Some of the other Assassins have returned from their missions today to restock, so business is good. Did you wish to do the same?"

"Not today, _mon ami_. Another time." He promised, taking two steps in the hideout's direction before pausing to look at Jean over his shoulder, "Those other Assassins you mentioned, are they still here?"

Jean laughed, his floppy woollen hat swaying as his shoulders shook, "_Oui_," He said, waving a hand towards the hideout, "Just follow the sound of banter, I'm sure you'll find them easily enough."

Arno's brows furrowed under his hood but he nodded his thanks and continued into the hideout.

Arno has not met any of the other assassins, apart from Bellec and the Council. He had been wondering about the others. Where they were, what they were doing, what kind of people they were. He had seen a few around the hideout since he joined but he did not have the time before to stop and say hello. This was his chance to meet his brothers, his new family.

He took the stairs on the right to the upper level, greeting one of the researchers that was standing by the top of the stairs as he passed. The hideout was normally quiet, with only the low murmurings of researchers and the scraping of sharpening stones on steel. This time, however, there was the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the left side of the hall.

Arno followed the voices, the sound of his footsteps muffled by plush red carpet.

There were two assassins seated at the table, laughing about some shared joke. They did not seem to notice him and he took the opportunity to quickly evaluate them as he rounded the giant globe standing in the centre.

One was dressed in dark green assassin robes, the other was wearing off white robes with brown leather arm guards, a blue arm band wrapped around his right bicep and a blue collar. Both were slender, obviously preferring light weapons and stealth. Arno stepped towards them, ready to introduce himself, when an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind him.

"You must be Arno."

Arno spun around to look at a third assassin, one that had been previously hidden in the shadows. Arno inwardly kicking himself for missing that there was someone else in the room, that kind of carelessness could cost him his life. Behind him, the other two assassins quieted.

The man before him was slightly taller than Arno, dressed in an off white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His arms were muscular, probably preferring heavy weaponry. A sleeveless, tan leather jacked was worn on top of the cotton shirt, with a hood that shadowed half his face but left his warm smile and stubbled jaw visible.

The man held out one of the two glasses of wine in his hands towards Arno. He eyed the glass for a moment, wondering if he had been expected or if the man had planned to give the glass to one of the others before Arno's arrival, and then reached out to take it from him, nodding his thanks as he did.

"My name is Lucien." The man, Lucien, introduced. He gestured with the hand that held his own wine glass in the direction of the table and the two men seated there, "The one in green is Christophe and the other one is Philippe."

There was a snort from behind Arno and he turned to watch Philippe as he spoke, "Oh, so I'm '_the other one_' now?"

"Don't worry, Philippe." Christophe replied with mock sympathy, "Someday you will be known as '_the one that tripped on a roof tile and fell right into a guard patrol'_."

"That was one time!"

Lucien chuckled, drawing Arno's eyes back to him, "As you can see, we are a very elite group of assassins."

Arno smirked, "Clearly I have much to learn about being an assassin. Perhaps I should practice tripping on roof tiles."

Lucien and Christophe guffawed while Philippe sputtered in false indignation before laughing himself. Arno took a sip from his wine glass to hide his amusement just as Lucien gave him a rough pat on the back, causing Arno to choke on his drink.

"You'll fit right in, Arno. Come, drink with us." Lucien's hand wrapped around Arno's bicep, pulled him bodily towards the table and shoved him into an empty chair that Christophe had pulled out for him, almost sending the glass out of Arno's hand. As it was, he only spilled some of the wine down his front.

"Don't worry about that, it'll come out." Philippe assured.

"Now," Lucien said from Arno's left as he poured more wine into Arno's glass, "Tell us about your first mission."


	2. Feathered Hood

"What in the world is that idiot doing?" Arno hissed from his crouched position behind a door.

There were shouts from the guards in the hall beyond the doorway, followed by a barely audible 'merde' from Philippe, a man that Arno was seriously reconsidering as a friend and colleague. Christophe can be heard shouting at Philippe as he joined him, the sounds of clashing swords doubling.

"Getting himself killed, apparently." Lucien replied, with far more humour than Arno felt he should, as he stood from behind his hiding spot across the door from Arno. He pulled his axe, a heavy and deadly looking weapon, from its harness on his back and threw him a wicked grin, "Shall we?"

And then he marched right into the fight that had broken out between the other two assassins and what Arno estimated to be just under two dozen guards.

Arno sighed in resignation and stepped out from behind the door as well, unsheathing his sword with a flourish and charged into the fray.

The fight was laughably short. The assassins moved like a well oiled machine, always aware of each other's movements, and the guards were too slow and clumsy to keep up. Between the four of them, they had all the guards either unconscious or writhing on the floor in pain in record time.

"Was that truly necessary?" Arno asked in exasperation as he punched one of the poor guards that was still awake unconscious.

"Sorry, my mistake. I didn't think there would be this many..." Philippe looked around at the bodies littering the floor with a sheepish expression.

Christophe snorted from where he was crouched over a guard, trying to find a key, looking both amused and annoyed, "Why don't you stop and count before you waltz into trouble next time. Wait..." He paused his search, lifting a hand to his chin in a pose of mock pensiveness, "Can you count?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that I -!"

"As amusing as this is," Arno interrupted, "Can we move on? I would rather not stick around for an encore."

Lucien, who had been rifling through another one of the guards' pockets, stood holding the key they needed, "I agree. Let's go."

Arno followed close on his heels with the other two not far behind. He focused his vision ahead of them. Everything around them dulled in colour; the room around him lost all detail and melted into simple shapes and outlines. The other assassins turned a vibrant green, deep and comforting. He noticed a few guards in the building but they were too far away and did not seem to be moving any time soon.

"It's clear. For now." He informed the others.

Christophe huffed irritably, "Good."

On their very first mission together some weeks ago, they had discovered that Arno was something of a natural when it came to the sixth sense. Arno had not realised before how difficult it was for other people until he spoke to the trio. While he had mostly stumbled upon it at the Bastille with Bellec and picked it up quickly, the other assassins required training to achieve it, and even then it was weaker than what he experienced. Once the trio was aware of his aptitude with the sight, they had convinced him to be their lookout and tracker.

It did not take long to find the chest the key belonged to. It was behind a desk near a stairwell. Lucien quickly knelt by the chest, rummaging through the chest and retrieving the notebook.

Their task now complete, the four Assassins leapt through the windows and made their way to _Ventre de Paris_.

In a rare show of mischief, Arno grinned at Philippe, "I'll race you to the square!"

He did not expect Christophe to suddenly speed up and laugh boyishly, "Last one to Paton has to wear the feathered hood!"

"Oh, _mon Dieu_, not that hideous thing!" Philippe exclaimed in what sounded like genuine horror before following his friend.

Arno and Lucien shared a look and took off after the other two, quickly catching up.

Their race was forgotten when they reached the square. There were so many people there and the thought of potential civilian casualties sobered them. They stood silent on the rooftop overlooking the square, finding their targets in the crowd.

"We'll take the roofs," Philippe murmured to Lucien, "You and Arno should go blend in. You're better at that."

Lucien glanced at Arno, silently asking his opinion. Arno shrugged, a light smirk tugging at his lips and jumped off the roof, landing into the street below. The thud behind him told him that Lucien had followed him.

They weaved through the crowd, taking out extremists and templar agents quietly in the cover of the mob. Arno caught glimpses of Christophe and Philippe as they hopped across rooftops to neutralise the marksmen, silent and invisible to anyone who did not know they were there.

It was going so smoothly, Arno thought they might save Paton without any trouble.

Of course, that would have been too easy.

"You there!" a guard shouted, pointing right at Arno.

Arno was suddenly aware that he had wandered too close to the edge of the crowd and had been shoved out of his cover and into the guards line of sight. A fully armoured, suspiciously hooded man near the prisoner? Not good.

Arno's hand went to the grip of his sword, ready to unsheathe it and fight but it was not necessary. At that moment, there were a series of bangs and smoke rose into the crowd. The people screamed, some of them ran, some of them started backing away but did not run from the rising smoke, fascinated by the proceedings.

This was the diversion.

Lucien appeared by his side, his gloved hand wrapping around Arno's wrist.

"Paton is gone. We need to find him."

Arno nodded. He expected Lucien to let go of him but instead, he pushed his way through the crowd, dragging Arno behind him until they were out of the square. Christophe and Philippe dropped from the rooftops to join them.

"Where is Paton?" Philippe asked, looking around as if anticipating the man to run out with the rest of the panicked civilians.

Lucien let go of Arno's arm and explained briefly, "Gone. We have to track him down."

"Over there!" Arno exclaimed when he spotted Paton's trail with his second sight, "He went through that street!"

"Lead the way." Christophe said.

Arno followed the trail that lead them to the graveyard. They found Paton underground, in the catacombs, guarded by a few extremists that did not last long. They offered him a job and took him to safety.

When the mission was done and they finally made it to the hideout, Lucien turned a roguish grin on them.

"So," he began, the vowel stretched teasingly and his hands on his hips, "Who's wearing that feathered hood?"

Christophe groaned.


	3. Letters

The paper was worn, he had read it so many times. His thumb passed over Elise's name, and he wished it were her cheek. He missed her, missed her smiles, her red hair. He had not seen her in so long that his heart ached whenever he thought of her.

Arno sighed, leaning his head back on the pillowed chair, the letter hanging precariously from loose fingers. It was late, the Cafe building was silent with everyone either asleep or at home.

He has been with the brotherhood for a few months now. He had spent much of that time with Lucien, Christophe and Philippe, doing group missions with them as he gathered information about Monsieur De La Serre's murderers. Despite spending so much time with them, he still knew very little about their history. He knew a lot about their personalities, their quirks, their fighting styles and pet peeves; He even knew that Christophe wore nothing under his breeches, a fact that Arno _absolutely did not need to know_ and fervently wished he could unlearn.

"Can't sleep?"

Arno closed his eyes and sighed again but otherwise did not move.

"No."

Arno could hear Lucien's footsteps now, quiet and careful but confident. He stopped two steps away from Arno, the man's tall shadow blocking some of the candlelight.

"What's all this?"

Arno cracked his eyes open to peer at Lucien, who was leaning over the box of letters.

His hood was down, a rare sight that Arno had only seen a handful of times. Lucien was undoubtedly a handsome man. His hair was dark and kept short, mussed from being under his hood all day; His eyes were a steel grey, clever and observant; His strong jaw sported the beginnings of a beard and his nose was regal despite the slight bump of a once broken nose. Arno often puzzled over why Lucien insisted on wearing that blasted hood near the hideout when a face like that would surely have garnered Lucien romantic attention from the ladies that spent their time near the Cafe.

Arno did not stop him when he reached into the box to pull out a letter. He trusted Lucien with this even as he knew he would probably be teased about it. Lucien straightened but did not open the letter. He glanced at Arno first, silently asking permission, and when Arno said nothing, proceeded to read the letter.

Lucien was infinitely careful with the paper as he unfolded the letter, a gesture that Arno appreciated even as he found it ironic that the other assassin was more careful with it than even he was.

Everything was silent as Lucien read. As his eyes scanned lower on the page, one of Lucien's eyebrows twitched upwards before dropping along with it's twin in a frown. When he finished the second letter, he let out a pensive hum.

"What is it?" Arno asked, feeling uneasy.

"...Nothing." The long pause said otherwise.

Arno pushed himself to his feet, his unease turning into defensiveness, "No, it's not nothing. I know that look, Lucien. If you have something to say, then say it."

There was a tense moment where they stood facing each other, trying to stare each other down. Although, in Arno's case, it was more like glaring than staring. Eventually, Lucien's shoulders slumped in defeat.

He let out an explosive sigh, as if he had been holding his breath, "It's really not that important, Arno."

"I'd like to hear it, all the same."

Lucien looked down at the papers in his hand thoughtfully, his frown deepening, "It's just...I wonder about her sincerity..."

Arno scowled, "What?"

"Look," Lucien began, stepping closer to Arno with his free hand raised slightly in a placating gesture, "I know you like her; And I don't blame you, she's a pretty girl and I'm sure a man like her father raised her to be a good person. From what I've read, she seems fond of you too. What I don't understand is; if she loved you as much as you seem to love her, why did she do nothing when you were imprisoned?"

The anger that had begun to brew in Arno's chest faltered, momentarily replaced with doubt. If he was honest with himself, there were times when that voice at the back of his head asked the same thing. It was something he tried very hard not to think about because Elise was the girl he had fallen in love with and the only real friend he ever had.

The entire time he was in the Bastille, all he cared about, all he thought about, was Elise. He had been concerned for her safety, worried about how well she was dealing with her father's death without him. He had assumed she did not know about his imprisonment, so when he had found her after his escape, he had been shocked that she had already known and had made no attempts to contact him at all.

And then she had gently rejected his apologies and excuses, broke his heart and all but disowned him.

When he was reborn into the Brotherhood, Arno tried to put his past behind him. After all, he believed Monsieur De La Serre's death truly was his fault and he did not begrudge Elise her anger.

He knew Elise had been in trouble, she had few friends in the order after her father's death and fewer still that she actually trusted. He understood that and he knew it was selfish to want more from her.

And yet it _hurt_. He would have done anything for her, probably still would, no matter the cost to himself. Why hadn't she done the same?

Lucien must have noticed his uncertainty, for his face softened in sympathy. He drew closer to Arno and his hand found his arm, squeezing it comfortingly.

His other hand raised the letters between them for Arno to take and Arno's hand came up reluctantly to accept them. He stared down at the familiar elegant script scrawled across the page in black ink blankly for a few long moments. When he looked up, he was slightly startled to note that Lucien had not moved away. He stood close enough that Arno could feel his body warmth. Normally, Arno would find the proximity unnerving if it were anyone other than Elise - But Lucien was different.

"I know you love her, Arno," Lucien's voice was pitched low, quiet and gentle in the silence of the room, "I know you feel guilty - " He tilted his head to try and catch Arno's gaze as he looked away, "emwrongfully,/em i think - and I understand why you want to help her; But I care about you and I don't wish to see you throwing your life away for someone who would not risk their own life for yours."

Arno wanted to protest, wanted to yell at Lucien for implying that Elise did not care for him, an old reflex to protect his oldest friend.

But the words would not come.

He could not say that he knew Elise at all anymore. There was so much that she kept from him, so much of herself had been hidden from him that he wondered now if he ever knew her at all.

Arno felt Lucien's hand on his jaw, his fingers curling around his nape to pull him closer for their foreheads to touch. Arno let him, relishing the feeling of intimacy even as he questioned why he was so comfortable with it.

"I might be completely wrong about her," Lucien continued, his eyes locked with Arno's and his warm breath fanning over Arno's skin as he spoke, "So don't feel bad about it. I just want you to be careful, especially when it involves Assassins and Templars. _D'accord_?"

Arno nodded slightly, "_D'accord_."

"Good." Lucien said firmly before pulling away. He smiled, patted Arno on the shoulder and turned to walk out the door.

"Lucien." Arno called.

Lucien halted, turning to look back at Arno, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Would you give your life for mine?" He asked quietly. He tried to make it sound like he was teasing, but he could not mask his vulnerability.

Lucien did not even pause to think about it.

"In a heartbeat." He replied solemnly.

Then he walked out, throwing a '_Bonne Nuit_' over his shoulder.

Arno stood staring at his empty doorway for a long time, the letter in his hand forgotten, and wondered why his heart was beating so fast.

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><p>AN: I hope you liked the last two chapters!

kacpolina1 left a review and asked for Christophe/Philippe. I wouldn't mind writing it but I want to know if anyone else would like that as well so please leave a review to let me know what you think of that pairing and the story.

Thanks for reading!


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